When I was a teenager my mother died. She sheltered me, and though I loved her, she kept me from seeing the truth. The truth that the non-magical were persecuted, and deserved to be free. For millenia, they treated us as godless beings. We were seen as nothing more than demons to them, and they were gods. When my brother sacrificed himself, fading into aeternum for our cause, and my lover Icari abandoned me, I knew, alongside my brother in arms Vesuvius, that I would bring an end to the magical.